Silent Existence - Paths Not Taken
by Nyerenir
Summary: He was left to live with nothing, as nothing. But all I was concerned with was my own reason for existence, that I was not there when this had happened. I was shattered in that guilt of not being there, not dying with whatever honour I had left within me, not seeing the face of death. Then, I was nothing, a nobody. Just a shell of flesh & bone in the way of time.
1. (Prologue) Time

_(This story is related to elements but not avatars. This prologue is to gain the interest of the reader and has another deeper purpose connected to the whole story, so don't mind if you don't understand this prolougue)_

What is _Time_? What flows through your mind in the sheer utterance of this word? Is it the peaceful memories you recall or the regretted ones? To us, _time_ is a _disease_, nothing more and nothing less than a wretched law, a law of nature, a law of fate. It is that which drives our lives leaving none to rest, yet it bears no rest itself. It is the reason we feel this pain, it is the reason people are dying. Yet in its absence there would be no history, no future, no past. People say _time_ is like a river, it flows swiftly & waits for none. It has its beginning and an end, it has its twists and turns & after one cycle ends it starts another. There are many similar rivers which I imagine to be merrier than ours, each flowing at a similar pace but with different twists and turns. Some start late yet end quick, some cross another's path. They are all connected. Time travel is similar to rowing a boat. It is easy to go with the tide but difficult to go against it, _our_ path was to go against it and fortunately for _time_, we succeeded to fail. Never lay your trust in time, _never_. Where was it when countless men died? It never once tried to hear the cries of the world. It did not even help nor listen to the countless souls bearing the pain death had created. All it did was erase that horrible memory from the world's history. That is all it has ever done, that is all it can ever do.

Every time I think of that beguiling memory, I fill myself with regret and remorse. I thought and I still think why I had not been there. But I still remember it, I can never forget it when the poisons filled the air, the waters, the earth and the souls of men, women, children, & every creature of the region. Armies marched toward each and every village, every city separating souls from their mortal shells, armies who follow none but time himself. A stormy sky empowered the beast inside the men. Cowls of wolves in the distance rang in every leaf in the forest lands. Rain and wind could heave no barrier on the chaos. Clangs of iron and steel sent flesh and armour to the ground. Disciples of Death, in the form of ravens surrounded the land waiting to scavenge their end of the bargain. A devastating war it was for every limb of nature called for help.

As I have said earlier, _time_ is a _disease_. It is allowed to spread for it is inevitable. Even then it did not listen to the cries of the world. From the midst of all this, a boy ran for his own life, no one had been there to help him for they had not the strength to help themselves. The boy's soul was shattered, but even clearly, destroyed. The surrounding bloodshed gave every part of him the will to give in, and to give in was what he chose. In our world, those who cannot escape their fate – _the tortured_ are the corrupt for evil isn't born within but fated. He could not help but fill himself with the devouring flames of rage that his pain had fuelled. As he evaded from the war, he was filled with guilt, everyone he cared for had either died or was being tortured to give in to the existence of fate. And _time_ did nothing but flowed carelessly as it had always done. The boy could not bear the pain anymore. He struggled for the rest of his remaining accursed life. He was left to live with nothing, as nothing. He had relived the same fate for a second time but even then, I was not there for him. That boy _was_ my friend.

But all _I_ was concerned with was my own reason for existence; that I was not there when this had happened. I was shattered in the guilt of not being there, not dying with whatever honour I had left within me, not seeing the face of death. Since then, I was nothing, I am nothing, a nobody. Just a shell of flesh & bone in the way of _time_.


	2. (Chapter 1) Fated

"I don't want to go, mom. You buy it and I'll give it to him," pled Edwin in fear of boredom, though he did not expect himself to be excused.

"No, when I say you buy it, I mean every word of it! You will get in the store and choose your grandfather's present yourself. You do know how he likes these old things don't you? At least do something for him on your own, he'll appreciate it," said his mother pulling him to the antique store.

Edwin Borne, a childish boy of fourteen. Dark golden hair he bore with sapphire blue eyes which reflected his stubbornness quite clearly. He lived alone with his mother and his grandfather. His father had passed away when he was seven, and he, to this day, mourns for that one good man. Nobody knew the whole truth of how his father had died. All they knew was that it was an accident, his body was never found but his car as they supposed, was a wreck. To Edwin's mother – Rebecca, her husband still lives, he lived on in her heart. She believed that part of him was still with her, she could feel his presence at all times. She sometimes thought he must have escaped the crash and was safe. And he would come back one day to fill the hollow inside her that the painhad created. Edwin imagines the same thing, he was much like his mother and cared about her. Sometimes, when he is sad or when he tries to remember his father, he holds a small photo of him close to his heart. He recalls all the good memories, the joyful times they had spent together. Sometimes, when he recalls them, he would go to one corner of his room, lock the door and lie down on the ground, crying quietly. One would not be surprised to know that his mother did the same, _every_ night.

It was Edwin's grandfather – Xavier's birthday the following day. He had suddenly taken quite a liking for old things. They seemed to be of high value to him. Edwin shared a strong bond with him of course, but not enough to go into an antique store. However, Edwin's mother insisted and he had to choose his own gift for Xavier eventually. Unwillingly, he entered the store, thinking he will hear the end of it. He looked around for quite a while and his mother did the same for her present for her father. There was nothing there of one's interest, only old torn diaries, broken lockets and other things which would only be of value to the person it was emotionally attached to before. They were nothing but artefacts of the historic past. But then an eye catching antique fell under his weary vision. It was a small scroll encased in dark ceramic. The black case was decorated with carvings of vines and withered leaves on an old and shattered wall of stone. Without a second thought, he took it. The store's owner was an old withering, antique man in his eighty's. In fact, he was the only one maintaining the small store as his elder brother passed away months back. The shop was not in good condition, all battered and dusty. The _antique_ 'antique store' run by an antique man. As Edwin showed the man his item, the man looked at it with keen and curious eyes. He held it still on his palm and stared at it; he examined it as if he never had seen it.

"How much is it?" Edwin asked.

The man looked at him with quite surprised eyes followed by a thin, twitching smile. He asked, "You wish to purchase this?"

"Yes," replied Edwin quite expressionlessly.

"I don't remember seeing this lying around anywhere in the store," the old chap mumbled. Then he gave out a chuckle leaving Edwin and the few people in the store quite confused. "Would you like me to wrap that up?" the man asked.

"No, Grandpa doesn't like opening presents. I'll just have a bag, thank you," he replied, quite carefree, still thinking of getting out of the store.

"No, thank you my boy," said the man smiling at him. Just as Edwin was going to turn around and head home, he asked again, "What's your name, lad?"

"Edwin," he paused, "Borne." Why do you ask?"

"No, it's nothing, it's just that you are the first boy of your age to enter this place. Could you come here my boy?" Edwin obediently stepped closer to the man. The old chap took his palm in order to examine it. He looked keenly at them with utmost curiosity. Edwin, on the other hand, was beginning to be suspicious of the man. The man spoke, "You are quite the stubborn lad, are you not?" Edwin was nowhere near happy to hear that statement. The old geezer looked at him saying with a broad smile this time, "I know about your father. Someday, both fate and time will lead you to him. You will meet him again." This left Edwin quite speechless. He could not even find the courage at that moment to ask the man about his father. He was caught in void that an unknown man would even utter the words of the return of a long lost man. Rebecca pulled him out of the trance and they left, but the man's words kept on ringing in his ears. As they left, the man sat down with a sigh. He looked around in his store and then down on his table _thinking_, "Fate and time, indeed. So this is where it begins, eh. I have no doubt now that it is him, but how must it end?"

The birthday party, or 'Just a merry gathering to remember an old man' as his Xavier used to quote would be the only days when Edwin saw his him laugh heartily. They two were very close, his grandfather and him, and they had very similar reasons for sharing this special bond. His grandfather reminded him of his father – Edward, and to his grandfather, he was a reminder of his son. They both reminded each of one man, one very _kind_ man.

When Edwin had reached home, his ears still rang those antique words. It seemed as if he had found a new purpose in life, a purpose to live, a reason for his existence. He could not bear the pain his mother carried, he did not like seeing her like that, empty, in pain, waiting for his father to return.

So, he decided that he would find his father and bring him home, if not for him, at least for his mother. Somehow, he began to feel that the answers to his questions lie in the scroll. He began to wonder what was written in it. So at night after dinner he opened it. The outside casing opened with just a twist and a pull. Inside was a hollow wooden tube wrapped with a long piece of torn and battered yellowish paper with their edges burnt. He pulled the rolled paper and saw faded markings. In the middle was a scalene triangle pointing down. Surrounding it were three symbols, one looked like an hourglass, the other probably symbolised the sun and the last one seemed like a door or such. Around those were six other symbols symmetrically aligned to make a perfect circle or wheel. He could not interpret those symbols. He pulled the paper revealing the other writings. They were written in a different tongue. Edwin took them for ancient runes and looked at them with enthusiasm and fascination. He kept on looking but he understood none of it. He stared at one particular part of it trying to figure out what it could mean, but the writings matched nothing with any English letter. But at one point, all of these words of that Part of the parchment started making sense to him.

A feeling crept inside him and he could understand it. The old scroll said something about a mountain being the source of an unimaginable power, but then suddenly, he lost it, the feeling. He could not interpret it anymore, it was all an unknown tongue to him again. Then he got frustrated, and he pulled the scroll more and more looking for anything that he might understand again. As he pulled, it became blank at one point but he did not stop pulling. Then in the last bit of that paper, there was a date given in English. It had the date - 30th October, AD 2013, it was _that day_. Below that, there was another line written in English. Edwin read, "Fate is a disease as time is, and it is inevitable. It caught me, caught us. Now, it is your time," he read the next three words in shock, _'Edwin Edward Borne.'_ Frightened, he pulled out the whole paper trying to see if there was any clue of its sender. He was wrong, there was nothing. He dropped the scroll in fright and shock. He lay there like that for minutes like a lifelike sculpture, thinking of all the events of that day, thinking of his father's return, thinking of the old man's words, thinking about his mother. When he actually came to his senses, he tore off the last bit of that paper and threw it in away. The crumpled piece of paper landed somewhere in his room, concealing itself from the human eye. He rolled the remaining uninterpretable writings around the wooden tube and back inside the case, just as it was in the beginning. He kept the old scroll back in the bag and decided to forget everything that had happened that day, but even he knew himself the bitter truth - Just because one decides to forget something does not mean he can actually forget it.

He went to sleep trying not to think about anything but the thoughts kept on stringing his nerves not allowing him to sleep. For hours he lay like that. However, he did get to sleep that night but they still haunted him in his dreams. He found himself in an isolated cell. Everywhere he looked, it was utterly black. There was neither a speck of light nor any feeling of life inside. The silence was deafening. The next moment, he heard the faded echoes of footsteps on grass coming towards him. It was no footstep of man but of a creature on four legs. He could not guess what it was. A ram, a stag, a steed or perhaps an ox, he could not understand. He wondered where he was. His mind still seemed to stick to the last bit of parchment of the old scroll and the words of the antique man. For one moment, out of confusion and fear, he was going to utter the word 'dad', but he suppressed his emotions. Then a vague voice entered his ears from behind, "I'd say you are somewhere in nowhere." The whisper was close, very close, for it echoed not. Edwin did not say anything for he was afraid, he still is. The voice began again, though this time, it moved and echoed, "You are still thinking of that parchment, are you not? And those words of the old man, about your father's whereabouts? You worry too much, too much indeed, son of Adam, child of man. Perhaps that is the true nature of such pitiful creatures as you. Weaklings!" The last words shook the room. The footsteps walked all around him and so did the voice. It continued with its words, "You are very weak as I now see. How would you react if I told you about your death? How you will die, when, where and maybe even why." Edwin still kept quiet in fear of the unknown. But the voice continued mocking him, "hmm? That is all? You are just going to keep silent? Not only are you weak but even fearful, yes, very fearful. You are not daring, not asking me to show who I am, what I am." As the voice said this, Edwin heard the same footsteps walking towards him again. He could then see a thin line of light touching the floor from a slightly opened door behind him, but he did not hear a screech from the door. The voice came even closer and the thin beam of light allowed him to see the man in front of him, yet no creature around him. He had a white robe covering his whole body and a white hood covering half of his face with darkness. Edwin saw part of his face through the thin light - he saw an old bearded man, his eyes shone silver and filled with woe. He felt as if all his fears, grief and rage were cleansed from his soul, and left its shell with an indescribable feeling. For that moment, he felt like the happiest person on earth for he did not go through so much suffering as the man in front of him.

Yet, a little fear made its way back into him. He dashed towards the light, opened the door and ran out. The old man chuckled, "Why do they always fear what they need not fear? They do not let an old weary soul have a bit of fun." He found himself running under a cloudy sky from where the sun could be seen as if it was afraid and had hid behind the clouds. The wind blew gently through his hair, the sound of footsteps walking on the street-slabs echoed inside his ears. He ran and kept running not knowing if he was being chased or not. All that was left in him then was just a feeling that he could not interpret. He ran into a train station pushing the people away, he looked back and was assured for he saw the same man behind him and very close except this time he was not wearing a white robe or a hood to cover his face. He was dressed as a casual modern man with a comparatively smaller beard. He wore a hat, a white shirt and a large grey coat. But the most disturbing thing was that every time Edwin looked front and then back, he seemed to come even closer even though he was just _walking_. He bumped into a policeman but continued his run without interruption, this made that man suspicious of him and even he started running behind him. He saw that now even a policeman was running after him yelling, "Hey!" again and again. "Why me?" asked Edwin to himself. He was exhausted because of all the running.

All he could think about then was that he had to lose both of them. He saw the rail tracks in front of him and used more of his strength to run even faster. He saw the bars go down and the train coming. As I have said before, he was left with just a feeling, a very strong feeling for he ran and jumped on and over the bars driven by it. Not even he knew what he was thinking. He felt that he could make it across before the train passes and he was not wrong because he could have, only if there had not been a sudden cramp in his knee. He fell on the railway injuring his arm badly. He could not pull himself up nor evade the situation. Wounded and in pain, he finally lost hope of living for the train was too close. He asked the same question again in his mind crying, "Why me?"

Surprisingly, he heard a familiar voice mocking him. It replied with an echo, "Why you?" He saw the policeman standing there shouting, "Get up kid!" and the white bearded man standing with a thin, mischievous smile on his face. Edwin took a last look at a living world around him as everything blurred, it was an oddly silent world in his last glimpse before he closed his eyes and screamed in fear of death.


	3. (Chapter 2) Foresight

In his last few moments, he could not move. He was immobilised by both fear and pain. The train hit him hard surging pain into all parts of his body. It became numb as he was dragged out of the train's path by his inertia. A crowd gathered around him but he could not see, hear nor feel it. He was left there abandoned by his soul as a mere shell of flesh and bone lying there, waiting to be reclaimed by nature. Then surprisingly, he felt life creeping back into him again and could hear the sound in his ears and see the light through his eyes, but he could not control his movements. He felt possessed. He found himself looking at the rail tracks and the old man stood there right, beside him. The man was smiling, enjoying the show. Then to his surprise, he saw himself in front of him running at the railway and behind him was the policeman. He got a look at himself from someone else's eyes. He saw his own self trip onto the railway and struggle there. He found himself running towards the struggling boy to save him but he was pulled back. He looked behind and got a good glance at the old man for once. The man just nodded his head preventing him from saving the boy. Helplessly, he looked at himself screaming as the train came at an unstoppable speed. He looked away closing his eyes and he felt the same searing pain rushing inside his body and vanish once more. And as he reexperienced his own death, all blurred away to darkness just like a dream, one more time.

He opened his eyes finding himself somewhere new. He was lying there, on the sidewalk with the cloudy sky above him. The sun was still afraid to show itself, still afraid to lay its radiant light upon the boy. The agonizing pain was back inside his body, but he was not much in harm's way. Edwin got up against the weight his pain carried. There was a crowd gathered behind him and it was no small a commotion there. Fear rose inside his heart of what was there, lying in the middle of the crowd. He forced the courage inside him to drag him to the middle of the crowd. He pushed himself through the crowd and saw, to his fear and shock, two people lying there. A few police officers rushed inside the crowd to aid the policeman lying there. He had an injured left arm and a broken left leg, but he was quite alive and struggled to move. Edwin was glad for a moment that at least there was someone bold enough to risk their own life to save his. But even that good feeling was short lived for the body lying beside that man was his own. It was no surprise to him although hoped the alternative, and that hope was crushed badly. He lay there beside his body, crying. He tried going back inside his own body, pushing his own body to wake it up, he even tried to wake himself up from the nightmare. That would have worked but only _if _it was just a nightmare. His tears falling, his heart beating, his breathless lungs panting, yet no man came to take his body. He sat there, beside his body thinking of his mother. "What will she do without me?" he thought, "She couldn't get over dad, how will she take this?" He thought about his father, where he could be and if he would come to console his mother if he is gone. Just then, he heard the same footsteps, that which was not of any man. It was approaching behind him. He could smell a distinct scent in the air, a concentrated smell of perfume, and he could feel a familiar presence. The air cooled rapidly and a cold hand he felt pressing upon his shoulders. He looked behind him and saw that same old man. The old chap smiled at him mischievously uttering the words, "Caught you!"

Edwin opened his eyes finding it hard to breathe. He struggled trying to rise up from his bed but a hand kept on pushing him down. His sore eyes could not bear the light above him and his paralyzed ears could hear only dim blurs. But he still could smell that same strong scent very clearly. He struggled to move his body for there were forces working against it. His body felt numb. Suddenly, a tiny pinch he felt piercing through his skin and he calmed. He was back to his senses.

"The patient is stable," he heard a man say and it was followed by a few claps and cheers. He could see the light bulb on top of him and a woman running out of the room. There were two doctors and a nurse beside him, staring. The doctor put his hand on his head saying, "Everything will be alright now. Don't worry. I think it's time I call your mother, don't you?."

The doctor went out and an old man entered the room taking his place beside him. It was his grandfather, it was Xavier. "You alright there kiddo? You gave us quite a hard time you know," he said.

"Wh... what happened to me?" he asked. His voice was frail. He struggle to move because of the anaesthetics.

"Well, I don't know what happened to you and I have no idea how or why. What I do know is that you've been lying on this bed for nine days straight. The doctor said you met with a tragic event in your dream causing the shock to get you in _coma_."

"Coma!" he said in surprise. He was confused if all that was actually real.

"Yes," Xavier said, "And quite a quick recovery you made there. We were all very..." he paused for a moment thinking it was better not to think about those other matters for then. He said with a mild smile, "Well, all that matters now is that you are alright."

Edwin saw through that smile. He knew everything was not as _alright_ as his grandfather had said. He had no interest in the past, his highest concerns were of his mother's whereabouts. "Where is mom? S... Is sh... she alright?" He got no answer to that. He asked again, "Grandpa, where is mom?" Still he got no answer. He asked again, "Grandpa!"

His grandfather saw his struggle. He gave another smile saying, "You should not worry. It is not good for you. You have to rest." Saying this, he left the room. Edwin saw none of his relatives that night, not even his mother. He was worried. He had trouble sleeping again for fear of the old man, another nightmare knocking him out, and his worries, especially of his mother. And ofcourse he could not help but recall the old man's words about his father. The next afternoon, he woke up in the same room, still with a needle in his arm providing him with nutrition. He was still weak and weary. But his night's worries still haunted him. Sleeping beside him on the sofa, he saw his grandfather.


End file.
